The Fruits of the Spirit
by ThePunkyNerd
Summary: Nine sweet lil' drabbles on the boy's relationship based on the fruits of the spirit. *WARNING* Wincest, don't like don't read.


**Love**

There are different types of love.

The, I've spent enough time with you, know every bad and good thing about you and still love you for it family love.

The blind, infatuated love-everything-about-you-love reserved for middle school and high school couples.

The sweet, huggy-kissy-touchy love that couples share in the first stages of a relationship before they grow sick of each other.

Then there's the love you make, a love that needs no explanation.

Sam and Dean Winchester have gone through every type of love listed above and more.

They've lost their pride, their souls, and their lives more than once, but no matter what happens, they still have each other and they still have their love.

**Joy**

Dean was completely speechless. He could barely think, let alone speak.

There's Sam, sitting across the room, saying a lame "Hey, Dean."

A year of a normal life with Lisa and Ben was good, even great, but the open sore that was left in Dean's heart after he saw his baby brother diving into the devil's cage was too much to live with.

And there he was, his Sasquatch, moose, pain in the ass little brother smiling smugly.

No matter what has happened before, no matter what happens after, he had his Sammy back and there was nothing to do but be so, so happy.

One word ran through his mind as he hugged Sam as tight as he could without hurting him: joy.

**Peace**

You're lost in that pristine state between dreaming and waking, and with our eyes half open, you see him lying next to you.

Him being Sam, your brother, lover, the only person you've given yourself wholly to emotionally and physically.

You smile at the peaceful state he's in, getting lost in that beautiful face you've fallen in love with. You brush a strand of his shaggy brown hair out of his eyes, letting your fingers trace down his face and neck.

He stirs from his sleep and slowly opens those incredible brown eyes. "Good morning," you say, grinning wide.

He mumbles a good morning back and smiles before closing his eyes again, settling back into the pillow.

You stroke his face with your thumb and he sighs and relaxes, that's just something your touch does to him. He opens his eyes and rubs the back of your neck and you turn to mush, he smiles because he knows that simple touch drives you crazy.

You roll on your back and he curls up closer to you, laying his head on your chest. You're both still half-asleep, and the dreamy bliss is wonderful.

Rare moments like these make your life tolerable, you think, staring at the ceiling. In the midst of the blood and chaos and hurt, you have the person you love most in the world to lay down with at night and wake up to in the morning.

Right here, right now, there's no angels and demons, no people that need saving, no monsters that need hunting. There's just you and him, and for now you don't want anything else.

Right now, everything is right and the world is at… peace.

**Patience**

Dean lay in the stiff, tan motel sheets, idly flipping channels.

Sam had grabbed a wad of cash, said he was going out for a drink and stepped out the door.

Well, that was five hours ago, and Dean was getting worried. The worry had started as soon as Sam had left, because he knew just what was going to happen when Sam came back.

He would stumble in the door, his sad eyes looking down, and eventually it would lead to tears and self-hating rants. Just as he expected, Sam stumbled in the doorway, all but collapsing onto the bed.

Dean routinely and silently peeled off his jacket and boots. Sam tried pushing him away but found it useless, and simply let Dean do his thing. Sam pulled the covers away, and Sam gratefully crawled in. "Wanna talk about it?"

Dean asked, sitting on the edge of the bed. "No," Sam simply mumbled back. Dean rose to lay in his own bed, but Sam suddenly grabbed his hand. "No, Dean, don't leave me, please…" He trailed off and turned to face him, sad eyes pleading. "I'm not going anywhere, Sammy, don't worry." Dean lay down next to him and Sam scooted closer, but not close enough to touch.

Dean lay his hand over Sam's tugged at it. "Hey, it's okay. I'm here." Sam buried his head in Dean's shoulder and started to sniffle. Dean sighed and kissed his forehead, knowing the routine all too well. Sam cried quietly while Dean whispered soothing words, patiently waiting until Sam was calm enough to fall asleep.

**Kindness**

It takes an incredible amount of love and kindness to scrub your brother's bloody vomit out of a car's floor mat. Sam sighed and tossed the dripping, gross mat into the dumpster.

Less than an hour before, they'd split up in the barn crawling with a nest of vamps, and, Sam had come to realize that bad things tend to happen when they split up.

Sam had gotten his ass thoroughly kicked, but Dean had taken an even worse beating before Sam came to his rescue. Dean's nose was broken, along with several of his ribs, most of his toes and it also felt like his head was about to cave in.

He was gushing blood from just about everywhere when Sam rescued him, tossing his arm around his neck and half-supporting half-dragging him to the Impala. Apparently the blood he had swallowed did not agree with his stomach and it all came heaving up onto the floor of the impala as Sam drove him back to the hotel.

After Sam bandaged up big brother as best as he could and laid him in bed, he went to cleaning Dean's baby till it was spotless. That started with throwing away the blood-spotted, vomit soaked floor mat. "Oh, Dean, you're lucky I love you."

**Goodness**

From the outside, it might look like that the two brothers despise each other. They've spent too much time with each other, and have grown sick of each other. But actually, the Winchester boys are good to each other.

Peel away all the layers of crap they've done, in the end they do it to help each other. Dean went to hell to bring Sam back to life. Sam stayed hidden for a year after he came back to hell just so Dean could have the life he wanted.

Besides all their brotherly teasing and all the crap they put each other through, they are good to each other.

**Faithfulness **

Not unlike love, faith is blind. Following a religion or a person to the ends of the earth is not the best idea, but most people do, even if it causes them pain.

The Winchester boys are poster kids for blind faith, as they are joined at the hip no matter what.

Even if the bad guys use their co-dependency as a way to get at them, even though they put each through hell, they always keep their undying faith in each other.

**Gentleness**

There's nothing new about tonight, nothing different. Just another shabby motel in the middle of nowhere, the same shabby curtains hiding a shabby room in a shabby town. So why does it feel so different? For the life of him, Dean can't fall asleep.

He's stuck in an exhausted state at two in the morning, sitting up in his motel bed, waiting for something to go wrong. He knows that feeling like the shit is about to hit the fan, and that feeling's been creeping up on him since dinner time.

He is startled into consciousness when he hears Sam whimpering in his sleep. Dean is immediately up and across the room into Sam's bed, pulling him into his arms as if it's a practiced ritual. Well, actually it is.

"Sammy, Sammy, wake up. It's all right, it was just a dream." He presses his forehead to his little brother's and whispers sweet nothing words of love and affection. Sam clings to Dean's neck like Dean's a life preserver and Sam's a child that never learned how to swim.

It's a peculiar sight, a sixteen year old boy curled up in the arms of his twenty year old brother. It's not peculiar to them though. Dean is used to the wretched nightmares Sam gets, and knows the only way to calm him down is his presence. "Thanks De," Sam mutters, nuzzling further into Dean. "Any time, sweetheart," Dean replies.

They fall asleep like that, tangled up in each other. No matter how tough Dean could act on the outside, he's still a gentle little teddy bear when he wants to be.

**Self-Control**

"All right boys, you know the drill. I'll be back in one week, two weeks tops. Keep the doors and windows locked and salted and only go out when you need to." "All right Dad, see ya."

Dean counts to ten after he hears his dad start up the Impala and drive down the road. As soon as the ten seconds are up, Dean is on Sam like a fly on shit.

"Oh my God I thought he'd never leave," he says between rough kisses that trail down Sam's neck. "Mmm, tell me about it," Sam says, his sentence ending in a gasp when Dean bites at the tender skin on his neck.

Dean takes a break to say "You know what I hate most, Sammy?"

"What?"

"I hate the waiting. I waiting for Dad to turn around so I can kiss you. I hate having to control myself when I sleep in the same bed as you when all I want to do is fuck you senseless."

Sam is the one to kiss him this time. "Well, Dad's gone now, and we're here. What do you want to do?" he says smugly.

"Everything." Dean whispers in his ear.

**Fin**


End file.
